With Time
by rachelbarry
Summary: "Finn and I dated in kindergarten." Finchel. AU. A heartbreaking and heartwarming story of true love beginning in its purest innocence.


**Author's Note:** _I was inspired to write this after seeing a Finchel Photo Prompt on Tumblr. If anyone shows interest, I'll continue it into a multi-chapter story as I have many ideas I'd like to bring into play. Please enjoy and review, favorite and follow if you like. Any mistakes are my own._

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Finn and I dated in kindergarten.

Well, "dated" as in played in the sandbox together, held hands while on the duo swing set together, kissed each other on the cheek and sheepishly looked away immediately following.

Despite how minimal our actions were, we were boyfriend and girlfriend and that was enough for us. After all, we were only kindergarten hearts. Nothing was complicated.

It all started in March of kindergarten year. The year went by quickly, and it was hard to believe it was spring already, but of course, I wasn't complaining. School was never something I favored. I only did it because I had to and since I had to, I made sure to do my absolute best. I was always a perfectionist when it came to _everything_. My goal was to be on top of everyone – I was always smaller than everyone physically, so it was important to me to prove my greatness in my intelligence and talent.

While my parents loved this, not many kids my age did. I only had one friend, a quieter girl named Quinn, and we got along quite well. Back in kindergarten, things were so simple. You didn't have to know a person's life story or interests to start talking.

But in March, Quinn moved to Philadelphia because her dad got a new job. We had a heartfelt goodbye and I shed more than a few tears the last time I saw her, and the next day at school, I was noticeably not as outspoken. Although kids didn't like me, that didn't stop me from participating in class. Now that Quinn was gone, I shut up and kept to myself. Not to make a scene, I just wasn't in the mood. Having a friend, I learned, motivates you. Friendship is important.

So when Finn gave me the piece of candy he got for successfully writing his entire name in cursive (on the line, finally), I had a feeling he was trying to be my friend, but I figured he was just being nice or just didn't want his reward, and ended up declining.

"Here," he said, handing me the candy.

"No thank you."

"But it's candy."

"I don't eat candy, but thank you."

"Who doesn't eat candy?"

I sighed and put down my pencil, looking down at my widely spaced lined paper. I'd already excelled in writing my name in cursive, evidenced by "Rachel Barbra Berry" being repeated on my paper almost _twenty_ times, each time separated by a sloppily drawn star. At the time, it looked good to me which was all that mattered.

"My dads told me it's not healthy," I told Finn, looking back up at him. Eye contact was polite.

"It's not?" This was obviously new to him. It was as if I told him that the sky was falling.

"No."

"Oh. Okay." And he turned back in his seat, stuffing the candy in his pocket. I continued writing my name. He was playing with his two number two pencils. I think they were fighting each other.

I didn't think he'd talk to me after that, but I was proved wrong the next day.

It was recess, we were halfway through the day, and I sat on the bench outside reading a book while the rest of the kids played on the playground.

Even when I had my friend with me, the playground was something I always showed little interest in. The monkey bars frightened me, the swing sets seemed unreliable, and all the children running along were tools of danger, so I made a point to stay away. The reading instead of the playing ended up being beneficial: by the time real grade school came along, my reading level was much more advanced than my peers.

It was just getting good in my children's novel, then –

"Hi, Rachel."

I sighed. I looked up from my book and found Finn biting his lip nervously, his fist sticking out a tiny bouquet of two flowers. They weren't the ones in the school garden, so I knew he'd gotten them from somewhere else, which was a lot of trouble that most kindergarten boys wouldn't want to go through. I looked at the flowers, then back at him.

"Hi, Finn."

"These are for you," he said. I would've assumed so with them _right_ in my face, disrupting my reading, and I would've said that to him, but my dads said if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all. It's not polite.

"Why?" I asked, my voice in a monotone. I didn't take them yet. I didn't know if this was a joke or something for me turning down his candy. Boys typically stayed away from girls, so it was safe to say I was confused.

It looked like his hand was shaking and his face looked as if he were about vomit right in that moment, but I was hoping to God he wouldn't. I might've needed therapy if that were to happen.

His eyes shut and he gulped, took a breath, and then let out all of his thoughts at once. I think it overwhelmed me more than it overwhelmed him.

"I think you're really pretty and smart and great and I want you to take these as a taken of my appreciation." He said it all in one breath, and didn't open his eyes until I said something.

"_Token_, Finn," I corrected.

"What?" His eyes opened, wide and bright.

"'A _token_ of my appreciation.' You said 'taken.' That doesn't make any sense."

"Oh. Okay."

I put my book to the side and took the flowers from him and pressed my nose against them. I'd always seen that in some of the romance movies my dads watched, so it seemed appropriate. No boy had ever given me flowers before.

I looked back up at him. "Do you want to sit?"

"Uh, sure."

He sat next to me and there was silence for a moment. My little fingers toyed with the flowers to pass time as I thought of something to say. Talking to my peers wasn't something I was very good at. With my academic advancements, it was hard to speak on such an inferior level. I knew this wasn't a good thing, so it was something I was working on.

Also, boys had never been so bold to do what Finn did, either.

"Thank you for the flowers," I finally said, looking at him. I realized I hadn't said it before.

He nodded. "You're welcome. Uh, do you like them?"

"I do," I said, nodding. I paused. "You said you think I'm pretty?"

He nodded and looked down at his hands that sat in his lap. "I do. I think you're really pretty. And smart."

I smiled. "Thank you."

For the first time ever in my five year old life, I felt butterflies. My cheeks hurt from trying to control a goofy grin. My stomach got this weird feeling, but it wasn't unpleasant. My heart started to pound in my chest slightly, but not enough to worry. And for the first time, I felt…shy and sheepish while in the company of a kid my age. I didn't know what this feeling meant at first, but I later learned what it was. It meant I had a crush. And lucky me, the feeling appeared to be mutual from the get-go.

There was another moment of silence between us and I swung my dangling feet as we sat on the bench.

He broke the silence. "Do you want to be my girlfriend?"

Making eye contact, I immediately asked, "Your girlfriend?"

He nodded. "You don't have to, I was just wondering…"

"Aren't we too young for that?"

"I don't think so."

Another silence. I thought. Considered. A boyfriend? With school and reading and dance would I be able to handle that? Would Finn be able to handle _me_? Finn was a very cute boy, and he mentioned _twice_ that I was a really pretty girl, but would we have anything in common? Was he smart enough to be my boyfriend?

I know, what kind of kindergartener thinks so in depth into this concept? I did, and I've always been that way.

However, I quickly brushed the thoughts aside, looking at the flowers and Finn's chubby face. If Finn was so willing to take a chance to not just be my friend, but be my boyfriend in my time of sudden loneliness, that had to mean something.

"Okay," I said with a smile.

"Okay?"

"I'll be your girlfriend."

Little did I know, those four words would jumpstart years and years of a remarkable journey with Finn. More than once would I regret saying the words; more than once would I be most thankful for them.


End file.
